


Braids for Best Friends

by raiyana



Series: The Reader Inserts [20]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Tumblr: ImaginexHobbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:05:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: "Imagine absentmindedly brushing and braiding Kili’s hair like you’d always done with your friends, but not realizing the significance it has to dwarves."I turned this a little sideways.





	Braids for Best Friends

“Braids? No, Hobbits don’t usually braid our hair with meanings. We use flowers for that.” Bilbo replied to some question or another from Ori.

“Hear that, Nella, maybe you’re part Hobbit,” Fíli teased. You scowled, throwing a pebble at your best friend. The scoundrel ducked.

“You watch your mouth, princeling, or I’ll take you down,” you growled, prompting Fíli’s loud laugh and a brief wrestling match that ended with you sitting victoriously on his back, threatening his own golden hair with a knife you pulled from your boot. Dwalin guffawed.

“I taught her that move,” he beamed proudly, elbowing Thorin who chuckled at his nephew’s scowls.

“Why don’t you have any braids, miss Nella?” the small Burglar asked, when you’d returned to your seat by the fire and let Fíli escape with his wounded pride to grumble good-naturedly with Kíli. You blushed.

“I can’t braid,” you admitted quietly. The Hobbit looked confused, possibly not realising what you meant. Grabbing a lock of your long hair, you parted the strands into three and, tongue poking at the corner of your mouth in concentration, began to plait it. “See?” you said, showing him the finished product. The braid was kinked, loose in places and too tight in others, making it twist and turn in on itself. Bilbo nodded. “Kíli,” you called, figuring he was a better bet than the glumly glaring Fíli. “Come here a mo’.”

“Aye, Nella?” Kíli called, but he stepped up, wincing slightly when he looked at the mangled attempt at a braid in your hair. He shot you a look of sympathy. Your handicap – it _was_ actually considered a handicap in your home in Ered Luin – was a poorly kept secret back home.

“Sit.” You ordered, in no mood for pity. Kíli obeyed swiftly. Bilbo stared confused at him while you shook the poor excuse for a braid from your hair. Separating a hunk of Kíli’s dark hair from the rest, you smiled at the softness of the curls. Turning to Bilbo, you lowered your voice conspiratorially, “Now watch.” Moving your fingers swiftly and surely, you combed through the long strands. Separating the hair quickly, you began weaving, and quickly had a wide seven-stranded warrior’s braid running from Kíli’s temple across his skull to end in a queue behind his left ear; the ancient archer’s style of braids.

“But… you said you can’t braid?” Bilbo asked, even more confused. Kíli sat still, seemingly frozen beneath your hands. You’d done his hair before, of course, but never _in_ _public_.

“I can’t. It’s a running joke back home that I’m the only dwarf incapable of braiding her own hair – especially when you consider how good I am at doing braids on other people,” you sighed, slightly wistful. “My amad still does all mine for feast days.” Pulling a piece of string from your pocket, you tied off the braid in Kíli’s dark locks neatly. Looking up, you realised everyone was staring at you and Kíli, whose ears had gone a very becoming shade of red.

“That’s a bit of a statement, niece,” your uncle Balin said mildly. His eyes twinkled at you, in that way that had always made your aunt giggle coyly. You stared wildly between him and Kíli, suddenly realising how quiet they’d all gone. Statement?... _oh._ You were sure your face matched Kíli’s ears. You’d been friends for years, due to your friendship with Fíli at first, but later you’d become true friends with the younger brother too. Lately, however, you’d _wondered_ …

“And here I thought my nephew didn’t _like_ braids,” Thorin mused, calmly smoking his pipe. Fíli’s shit-eating grin was flashing at you across the fire. “but perhaps it simply depends on _who_ plaits them into his hair…Kíli?” Kíli mumbled something unintelligible.

“I’ve done it before!” you blurted. “For feasts! It doesn’t have to mean… _that_.” _Especially not if it made Kíli so ashamed_ , you thought, heart twinging. Beside you, the Hobbit resembled nothing so much as a question mark. Thorin frowned lightly. Kíli jumped to his feet, fleeing the warmth and light of the fire. “Kíli!” you called after him, feeling more than a little mortified. You hadn’t even stopped to think, simply done as often before, with no thought to who might be watching. Hiding your face in your hands, you breathed deeply.

“What just happened?” Bilbo asked. You sighed, getting to your feet and walking after Kíli, knowing you’d have to do _something_ to salvage this situation.

“Miss Nella just proposed to my nephew,” Thorin stated, loud enough to make you wince as you strode off into the darkness, “and apparently not for the first time, either.” You heard the laughter of the Company floating through the air behind you.

 

“Kíli!” you hissed. “Where are you?” In the darkness, his tracks weren’t easy to follow – not that you’d ever been a good tracker in the first place; tracking and hunting were Kíli’s tasks, with you and Fíli tagging along for what you called moral support and Fíli called protection. “Kíli! I’m sorry, alright?!” you called loudly. Stumbling through the dark trees, you worried. “Please… please forgive me,” you whispered, hugging yourself tightly. “I didn’t think… please don’t hate me?”

“Aww, Nells, I’d never hate you,” Kíli’s voice came out of nowhere, startling you into a loud shriek. When he just laughed, you swatted at him, connecting with his shoulder in the darkness.

“Promise?” you asked, wondering when you’d turned into such an emotional mess when you heard the tears in your own voice. Kíli’s arms wrapped around you, hugging you tight.

“I, Kíli, Prince of the Line of Durin, Son of Dís, Princess of the Line of During and Heir of Thorin Oakenshield, King-in-Exile of the Line of Durin, do solemnly swear never to hate you, Nella of House Jarnraudr,” Kíli muttered in your ear, the grin breaking through his mock-serious voice almost immediately. You chuckled; a watery sound as you relaxed slightly. You could feel Kíli’s breathing on your ear, raising goose-bumps down your spine.

“I really am sorry,” you whispered, turning to face him and suddenly realising just how close you were standing. wrapping your arms around his waist, you pressed your forehead into his shoulder. “I embarrassed you in front of your uncle.” Braiding his hair had always just been something you _did_ , almost without thinking about it. Kíli stiffened.

“Look at me, Nella,” he whispered, sounding hoarse. You frowned, but tilted your head back, meeting his hazel eyes. Your heart sped lightly, making you feel strangely nervous.

“ _Oh_ ,” you sighed breathlessly when his lips left yours, licking lightly across your top lip. Kíli looked a little apprehensive now. Smiling, you flicked the end of the braid you had plaited, tracing your fingers along his jaw and pulling him back to kiss you again. “I guess it’s a good thing I already braided your hair,” you chuckled. Kíli pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Will you accept if I offer to court you properly, Nella?” he asked. You kissed him again, enjoying the way his lips met yours eagerly.

“Yes,” you whispered, feeling his fingers thread through your hair as he bent to celebrate your acceptance with another kiss.

 

“It’s about bloody time,” Fíli grumbled, when the two of you returned to camp. “S’not like we’ve been betting on you two for years or anything. Now I owe Amad 20 silvers!” he groused, but he smiled, hugging you tightly as he whispered congratulations in your ear, flicking the small bead Kíli had surreptitiously braided into your hair.

“Only 20?” Thorin replied, aghast, “I think I owe her 200 by now. Please tell me it was Kíli who actually asked?” he nearly begged, staring at you. You nodded, certain your cheeks had the colour of cherries. You smiled widely, as the both of you accepted hugs and congratulations from your family. Beside you, Kíli was beaming proudly, accepting pats on the back from those still awake. “Yes!” Thorin crowed. “That puts me down to 75 only!” He looked so pleased you couldn’t contain your laughter when the King wrapped an arm around you. “Officially welcome to the family, Nella,” he said quietly, pressing his forehead against yours.


End file.
